


Too Old to Stag

by chasingbluefish



Series: Discord RS 24Hr Challenges [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU-No veil, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Prisoner of Azkaban, hangovers, rs24hrchallenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 04:13:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13263450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingbluefish/pseuds/chasingbluefish
Summary: Hangovers happen to everyone.





	Too Old to Stag

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, this is my first attempt at our new challenge. The theme was 'the morning after' and we were challenged to add in all or as many as possible of the following words: pillow, banana, firewhisky, snogging, fire, lipstick, window, hippogryff, tattoo, jealous. I managed them all! And instead of the touching direction I intended, this went purely humour. Oops.

All was silent in the cozy bedroom, only the dim remnant of last night’s fire showing any signs of life. Two figures lay in the large wrought-iron bed, limbs askew and blankets tangled. Slowly, the eyes of the darker man blinked open before slamming back shut with a grunt of disapproval.

 

“Moony...Moony wake up...I’m dying.” Sirius shoved roughly at the other’s shoulder. When there was only a muffled curse and an attempt to drag the blanket over his head, Sirius persisted. Eventually, Remus gave in and cracked one eye open.

 

“Fucking hell...I feel like I got run over by a herd of hippogryffs…” He moaned. 

 

Bones creaked and stomachs protested as the pair regretfully found consciousness.

 

“Why...why did we do this…?”Sirius rolled onto his stomach, burrowing further against his partner with a whine. Said partner rolled his eyes, or at least tried to before the pounding in his head stopped them halfway.

 

“We? You’re the one who bought a barrel of firewhiskey-”

 

“It was Harry’s stag do! What was I supposed to do? Bring a-”

 

“Is that a tattoo?!” Remus drew up onto his elbows, eyes wide as he leaned in to stare at the prancing grim marching a path across Sirius’ shoulder blades. When he extended his finger to touch the creature it made as though to lick the pad of his index. 

 

“What?!” The darker wizard whipped his head around in a panic. As the room spun he caught the briefest of glimpses of dark ink and sighed, dropping his head. “Oh. That. George did that. It’s one of those...impermanent things...it fades after a few weeks. You were there.”

 

“Padfoot. You chose a tattoo of Padfoot.”

 

“You didn’t argue.”

 

“I feel as though I would.”

 

“Well, you were feeling several rounds of Old Ogden’s at the time.” Carefully, Sirius turned onto his back once more and dragged a pillow beneath his head. Remus sighed and curled up next to him, forehead pressed to his lover’s shoulder.

 

“Christ. I mixed firewhiskey and Ogden’s? No wonder I feel wretched.”

 

“Once Ron and Harry challenged us, we couldn’t let them win.”

 

“Please tell me we won.”

 

“We did. Bill and Charlie had to carry Ron upstairs.”

 

Remus chuckled at that, warm breath ghosting over Sirius’ skin. A fond smile curved his lips.

 

“Don’t suppose we thought to pick up some hangover cure?”

 

“Probably not. You have lipstick on your cheek.”

 

“Do I?” Hazel eyes flicked up in amusement. 

 

“Wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.”

 

“Are you jealous?”

 

“Of an old lady?”

 

“Ha. She wasn’t a day over seventy if you ask me.”

 

“Only you Remus Lupin would stop to help an elderly woman with her bags during a damned pubcrawl.” It was said with a certain mix of fondness and annoyance that was clearly love and the werewolf grinned.

 

“She had six of them...and she gave us a loaf of homemade banana bread in thanks.”

 

Hope lit up Sirius’ face.

 

“Did we eat it last night?”

 

“I have a vague memory of placing it beside the window in the kitchen. At least, I think it’s our kitchen…” 

 

“Perfect. No one has to cook. I don’t think I can handle being upright for large amounts of time.”

 

“Just...summon the bread while I’m in the loo. No one needs to go anywhere. Nor should we. We’re too old for this.”

 

“Old?! Speak for yourself. I’m a spry forty. Barely.”

 

Just then the bedroom door swung open.

 

“Is there a spare toothbrush, only I can’t find-oh god. Sorry! You’re naked. I should have...I heard you talking and...fuck. Sorry!” An entirely too red Harry was backing out into the hall, hand over his eyes. 

 

Remus dissolved into quiet laughter as Sirius dragged the blankets up enough to preserve their dignity. “Upstairs meant our upstairs? Is Ron here too?”

 

“Shit...yes he is. Harry, wait!” 

 

“...yes?” 

 

“We’re covered now. You don’t have to turn your back.” 

 

The brunette slowly re-entered the room and paused awkwardly, just inside the door. 

 

“How’s Ron?” 

 

“Snoring. He’ll be miserable when he wakes up.”

 

“You look suspiciously fine.” Remus pointed out with a quirk of the brow. Harry looked momentarily confused before taking in the drawn faces of his godparents.

 

“Right, sorry. Hermione owled over a care package. Hangover cures and the makings for a fry up.”

 

The pair literally sagged with relief against the pillows.

 

“You and Ron can help yourself to the fry up; but if you bring us some cures and the banana bread by the window, I will owe you my life. And promise that you will not walk in on any snogging or nudity.” Sirius had his hand over his heart, eyes reflecting an uncanny resemblance to Padfoot’s begging stare. 

 

“And the toothbrush?”

 

“We will get you a thousand toothbrushes.” Remus promised.

 

“Two would be fine. I’ll be back in a tick.”

 

“You’re a...what’s that muggle thing, Remus?”

 

“Angel?”

 

“Yes that. The flying things that perform miracles.”

 

“Still drunk?” Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

 

“Slightly. A bit.”


End file.
